


Watch It, Assface

by diotheleo



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Soldier Enhancement Program, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-11-21 05:21:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11350716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diotheleo/pseuds/diotheleo
Summary: They said the words that appeared were the first thing your soulmate would say to you.





	1. Chapter 1

They said the words that appeared were the first thing your soulmate would say to you. The words would appear at any time before you would meet. Some people would have a name, some just basic greetings, but of course there were some with… Questionable things.   
  
Like one John ‘Jack’ Morrison, who had ‘Watch it, assface’ permanently etched onto his wrist. The words appeared around his 10th birthday and his parents were adamant that he wear a chunky wrist cuff to cover it- it wasn’t appropriate and the other children mustn't see it.  But, like any 10 year old would, he thought having inappropriate words on him was the funniest thing, and would show it off the everyone. For a few weeks, he was even considered cool for it, until others started getting their words and some got more risque.   
  
As he grew, hitting high school, he cared less about covering it, as he heard worse than assface from the rest of the guys on the football team. Some people had worse things, some people had nice things that some people gushed over, and others had a simple “hello” like that was an easy way to identify your fucking soulmate. At least he was one of the ones with something unique, even if it was insulting.

 

Much to his parents dislike, Jack joined up into the military straight out of high school. They wanted him to stay home and take care of the family farm, but he wanted to get out of Indiana. Besides, he had 6 brothers who could take care of the farm, why did he have to stay?

 

So he joined the military, and 2 years later was hand picked for some secret government project they wouldn’t tell him much on past “you’ll save the world” as if that wasn’t ominous as hell, but with tensions rising between humans and omnics, who knew what would happen?

 

It wasn’t until after he’d signed away everything including contact with his family, that Jack learned the secret government programme was called the “Soldier Enhancement Programme” or SEP for short. It sounded like some Captain America shit, but with functioning AI a reality, and demanding rights, super soldiers didn’t sound that out of place.   
  
A few days after signing the paperwork, he found himself on a plane with a few other recruits. No one could guess where they were being flown, whether it was across the country, two states over, or in circles to throw them off, it was anyone's guess. They were in the cargo bay of a transport ship, told to remain buckled into the seats, for their safety, as if they were the cargo.

The man to Jack’s left was around the same age as him it appeared, but definitely from a rougher place than a farm in the middle of Indiana. He wouldn’t say much past his surname being Mobley. To his right was Henry Joennes, from Chicago, with a wife and twin girls at home. He’d shown everyone pictures. Adorable. Across the plane was Hemmick, who chattered on about anything and everything, asking about everyone but hardly listening to anything they said before chattering on more. Next to Hemmick was Haron, which definitely seemed like a fake name but none of them could prove it.   
  
Hemmick and Haron eventually took to side conversations on Spanish, seemingly going from arguing to compliments every few minutes, but Jack’s lack of Spanish knowledge couldn’t tell him anything.  Mobley was silent and brooding for the majority of the flight, sleeping for the only time he wasn’t brooding. Henry kept light conversation with Jack, asking him about Indiana and the farm, if he was married or had kids or anyone waiting for him back home aside from immediate family. As soon as Jack mentioned his 6 brothers, Joennes wanted every detail.

 

Eventually, they land somewhere, but the location is still anyone's guess until the cargo bay doors open and they’re all smacked in the face with a wall of heat and the sun reflecting off the ground and ship, momentarily blinding them all.  Henry starts up a complaint until he notices someone standing just outside the plane, arms holding multiple clipboards. Jack counts - 5. One for each of them. Could be personnel files, could be shit for them.   
  
They shuffle off the plane into the heat, Jack last and blinking away the light to look around. Desert, but still the United States, so southwest. Could be Texas, could be California or anywhere in between. No matter where they were, it was sweltering, the sun high, and the skies clear aside from a few wispy clouds in the distance. 

 

They’re all handed a clipboard, the person sifting through for each person's. On it is room assignments and daily schedules. Pretty basic stuff like meal times, training times, but there’s a block for most of the day on every Thursday labelled “Injections” and Fridays had nothing but meal times. Ominous. 

 

“Hey, what’s with Friday?” Joennes asked, angling the clipboard in his hands and pointing as if the person didn’t know already know what was printed on it.   
  
“Save your questions until the rest of the recruits are gathered,” The man had a gruff voice, serious and demanding respect. Jack stiffened and straightened on instinct. “There’s a map after the schedules, you’ll find your rooms labelled. The mess hall is the building over there,” he says, motioning to a medium sized building near the edge of the property. “The rest of the recruits are waiting there.”   
  
With that, he turned to leave to a different building, presumably an administration building. The plane they landed on is ferried toward the absolute edge of the property and the five of them are left alone.

 

“I guess that means we’re supposed to go to mess,” Jack said, almost questioningly, before turning to walk in that direction. Everyone follows, with Mobley taking up the rear this time and Hemmick keeping pace with Jack. Both Hemmick and Joennes are quiet, entirely out of character from the plane ride.   
  
Inside the mess hall are only a few more groups of people, all chattering away in their own groups, presumably the ones they came in with. There are tables laid out around the room, though from what Jack had been told, there weren’t going to be nearly enough people in the programme to fill the hall. Must have been a functioning base at some point, but now relegated to government projects. Their small group sits at a table, none of them sure how to penetrate any of the other groups. They’re quiet, Hemmick talking softly with Haron in Spanish again and Joennes wringing his hands and staring at them as if they would give him answers.

 

After half an hour, another group enters and at the same time, a loud, booming voice calls their attention to the front of the tables.   
  
“Welcome, Recruits,” the voice says. From Jack’s table, the man looks like the run of the mill General.  “Welcome to the Soldier Enhancement Programme. As you can guess from the name, this is a pet project to see if we can create super soldiers. You’re not the first batch of recruits to come through here, and you likely won’t be the last. Not all of you will be able to handle the training, but we hope the majority of you will. For the rest of today, get to know your fellow recruits - they’re your competition. There’s a board in here and every rec room that will display the current standings. Anything can bring you up, and just as well, anything can bring you down. You would do well to keep track of your standing. Everyone should strive to be number 1. Good luck, recruits.”   
  
With his short speech over, the General or whatever he was marches off the stage and out of the building. Within minutes of his departure, there’s an announcement of food being served. There’s a minor rush as everyone wants their ration. As if of a hive mind, everyone sits in relatively the same area. There looks to be about 100 people in total.

 

Jack’s looking around, trying to pick a good place to sit, maybe with someone that looks interesting. He’s not paying attention and bumps into what almost feels like a wall, except it gives, and he nearly drops his tray of food, turning to apologise to whoever or whatever he’d hit.

 

“Watch it, assface,” the guy says with a mean scowl. Jack freezes, barely sparing a glance to his wrist.   
  


“What did you just call me?”

⚜⚜

The Reyes family wasn’t made of money, but they got by. Living in Los Angeles wasn’t cheap but they managed. They were a tight knit family. Under one roof was a mother, father, 2 daughters, a son and a maternal grandmother having family dinners every night and going to Mass every Sunday. Every accomplishment was greatly celebrated, including when each child’s soulmate mark appeared.

 

For the son, Gabriel, the words ‘What did you just call me?’ appeared on his collarbone when he was 11, presumably around the same time his half of the interaction appeared on his destined soulmate. The curious part is what  _ did _ he call them? His oldest sister assumed he insulted them right off the bat, but their middle sister guessed a case of mistaken identity. Gabriel didn’t care either way, caring more for the celebration they were going to have than the reason to celebrate. Who cared about words when there were as many pastries as he could stuff into his mouth?

 

As he grew older, he would stare at the words in mirrors, wondering who the universe destined him to be with and what the hell he was going to call them. 

 

With a lot of hard work and a little bullshitting, Gabriel managed to graduate high school a semester early, to much joy from his family. Within days of graduating, he enlisted into the military, amid protests from his family about him being gone and them missing him. He shipped out with promises to call and write as often as possible.

 

While a few of the guys in Gabriel’s platoon had already met their soulmates - with two joining the military together- there were still quite a few of them that hadn’t. They would all discuss their phrases, with jabs at Gabriel of ‘well, what do you call her?’ that he laughs off with a shrug. It’s all good natured fun and jokes.   
  
Naturally, when a man in a black suit asks if he wants to join some super secret government programme focussed on keeping humanity safe, he says yes. Who the hell could or would say no to that? Was it even an option? He dutily signs all the paperwork and follows their instructions to a T.

  
And thus he found himself on a plane with 4 other guys he’d just met, none of them too into the idea of talking. There’s a few polite grunts, but for the most part they all strap in and distract themselves with something else, such as sleeping. Gabriel watches them, trying to get a read on what types of people were going to be in the programme based on who he was grouped with. It was highly unlikely the five of them were the only ones in it, but also unlikely that there would be a lot of people.   
  
He decides to read the letters he’s gotten from home so far, keeping them tucked into the pockets of his uniform for safekeeping. He’d been told that from this point on, he wasn’t allowed any contact with the outside world, had sent one last letter saying it might be his last for a while, and rounded up what he had. If anything, it was an anchor to keep him grounded. Everyone seemed to have something to say in each letter, with a mix of different handwritings on the pages and different stories of what was happening in their little corner of LA at the time. He cherished every word.   
  
Eventually, there’s a short, rough landing and the doors to the plane are opening. It’s early afternoon, the sun is bright as hell, and there’s large expanses of sand outside the fences they can see. On the tarmac is a man with clipboards and definitely designer sunglasses waiting for them. Each guy is handed a clipboard and is pointed toward the mess hall. They trudge over and inside, greeted with mild interest by about 20 other people.   
  
Gabriel looks around with slight suspicion, choosing a table and dropping down at it. Flipping through the papers on the clipboard reveals schedules, a map and a list of about 100 other names- all the recruits possibly?   
  
He debates the merits of falling asleep at the table, laying his head on his arms and looking around the mess hall. On one wall, there’s a small stage with a large podium with a microphone, and the opposite wall has a cafeteria-esque serving area, complete with a salad bar of all fucking things. There’s no food out, though, much to his annoyance. He’d had a shitty breakfast before being told to get going on the plane, and the in-flight service had been nonexistent- they didn’t even get those little bags of peanuts.   
  
As the time trickles by, more groups of five trickle in, all sitting in their little groups at different tables. They’re all met with the same mild interest from the recruits already there. Gabriel has to fight to keep from falling asleep on the table   
  
Eventually, finally, amazingly, the last group is there and there’s a guy on the stage making some flowery announcement to welcome them. The only part Gabriel cares for is the mention of a ranking system- having two siblings made him fiercely competitive, so it wasn’t hard for him to want to be number one, but with 100 other super-soldier candidates to compete with, he’d have to work his ass off for it.   
  
Within moments of the speech ending, they’re told there’s food, and Gabriel nearly knocks the table over in his rush to get up. He was fucking  _ starving _ and hell hath no fury. His choice of a table in the middle of the room haunts him, as he’s a ways back in the line to, but does eventually get food- and it looks better than the shit he got before.   
  
He’s scanning the room for another table when some asshole knocks into him, nearly knocking the tray from his hands and he turns to shoot them a glare.   
  
“Watch it, assface.” He’s definitely got a mean scowl on his face, but the fucks he gave when his food was almost catapulted away from him are low.   
  
“What did you just call me?”


	2. Chapter 2

The phrase barely shocks Gabriel, having heard plenty of people say it to him by that point in his life, and none of them ever having what he said on them. At this point, he wasn’t caring about the words, just hoping to get through his everyday life. It isn’t until the blonde dude is grabbing his forearm tightly that he bothers to pay attention.

 

“No, seriously  _ what did you just call me? _ ” he asks, voice sounding panicked.

 

“I called you an assface for nearly making me drop my food, you know they aren’t go-” Gabriel cuts himself off as the guy gets visibly paler and sets his tray aside. He keeps a tight grip on Gabriel’s arm, which is starting to piss him off, and flips his free hand so his wrist is visible.   
  
And right there, plain as day, are the words _ ‘Watch it, assface.’ _ Exactly what he’d said, with the guys response on Gabriel’s collarbone. It has to be a coincidence.   
  
“What are your words?”

 

“No. No, fuck the fuck off. Not happening, cockbite.”

 

“Is it- Are they- oh my god.”   
  
At this point, Gabriel isn’t sure the guy  _ isn’t _ having a full panic attack and wrenches his arm away from him. The tray in his hands nearly spills again and he thinks to set it down this time. There’s no way this guy is his soulmate, no here, not now, not this guy.   
  
But they both have the other’s first words very much on them, and you can’t argue fate.   
  
Gabriel practically growls, grabbing the guy’s face and forcing him to look into his eyes.   
  
“Alright, listen to me. You’re going to fucking  _ breathe _ before we do anything else.” The guy sucks in a few breaths at the command, nodding feebly at him. “I’m going to say this is some sick coincidence, because no way in  _ hell _ am I meeting my soulmate in this fucked up place.”

 

The other guy is just staring at him with wide eyes, as if he’d never seen another person in his life. Gabriel lets out a frustrated sigh, dropping his hands from his face and crossing his arms tightly.   
  
“Fine. Fine, whatever. The world is already 50 shades of fucked up, why not add another layer. I’m Reyes, by-the-by. Gabriel Reyes.”   
  
“J-Jack Morrison,” The guy- Jack- honest to god stutters. It takes another moment before he seems to regain his grip on reality and flashes him a smile that practically sparkles. “Pleasure to meet you, Gabriel.” He sticks out his hand and Gabriel gingerly shakes it. Something definitely seems off about how pleasant this guy suddenly was.   
  


Gabriel retracts his hand slowly, with a suspicious look. The guy- Jack- is still all smiles. If he weren’t a nice person, he might have punched Jack out of pure spite.

 

“Don’t think we’re all buddy buddy because of this.” He waves a hand from his collarbone to Jack’s wrist. “They said this shit show is going to be a competition and I intend to be number one.”

 

“Well that’s a pity,” Jack says, still fucking smiling. “Because I’m going to leave all your asses in the dust and be number one.” There’s a mischievous glint in Jack’s eyes and Gabriel hates it. He doesn’t need some smarmy asshole fucking this up for him.

 

“I’d like to see you try, pretty boy,” Gabriel practically growls at him, picking up his tray and stomping off.

 

He crosses the mess hall and drops down at a table. Low and behold, fucking Jack Morrison sits across from him, still with the fucking smile on his face.

 

“You know, I think you’re so grumpy about this because you expected your soulmate to be female, but you can’t argue against fate.”

 

“I’m grumpy because I want to eat my food in peace and you won’t leave me alone.”

 

“Ouch. You’re kind of stuck with me, though, with the whole soulmate thing.”

 

“Until you flunk out and I never have to see your face again.” Gabriel points at him with the cheap plastic fork in his hand, almost smirking. “Oh, what a day that’ll be, seeing you off to failure. Please make it sooner rather than later.” He clasps his hands together, fluttering his eyelashes at Jack.

 

“Harsh.” Jack draws out the word, shaking his head. “Too bad for you, that won’t be happening.”

 

The amount that Gabriel wanted to punch this jackass in the face rose with every word he said. He was cocky and full of himself. The more time Gabriel spent around him the more he doubted the guy had any  _ real _ military training. He’d get his ass handed to him talking like that, and that cocky attitude would surely get him killed. How was he supposed to believe some asshole like that was his soulmate? He was a good man, he went to mass whenever he could, he loved his family, he didn’t deserve this.   
  
Jack tilts his head to the side, blinking at Gabriel with big blue eyes. “Dude, you look like you’re about to fucking deck me.”   
  
“Give the man a prize, he can read the room.” Gabriel drops the plastic fork on the tray in front of him, roughly shoving it away from him. “Also, thanks for ruining my lunch.” He stands up and stomps off, intending to find his room

 

⚜⚜

 

It takes him a bit to find the room- they’re numbered, but the map doesn’t have the numbers on it. Someone doesn’t know how to make maps. He counts his way down the hall, stopping in front of the right door. Room 76.   
  
The doors are all open, easy to look into. Every room was nearly identical- 2 full-sized beds pressed against opposite walls with short dressers at the end and 2 desks in between. They couldn’t get lucky enough to get single rooms, could they? White walls, grey sheets, light brown carpets. Boring, plain, drab. They should really fire their interior decorator.   
  
Gabriel immediately takes the bed on the right, dropping down onto it to lounge on it. He barely fits on it- if he’s not careful his feet are going to hang off the end. He’ll just have to get used to being a bit curled up while sleeping.

 

He’s nearly about to fall asleep when someone else walks into the room, taking the left bed. 

 

“Guess we really are soulmates, sharing a room and everything.”

 

“Oh  _ fuck _ no.” Gabriel shoots up to sitting, shooting a glare over to the other bed, and Jack with  it.

 

He’s not smiling, but he still looks pleased, the smug bastard. Gabriel stands up and crosses the room in two long strides, grabbing Jack’s wrist roughly and looking at the words.

 

“It’s even in my handwriting, what the fuck. What the  _ fuck _ .”   
  
Jack snatches his wrist back, rubbing it lightly. “That probably means what I said is in my writing. Mind showing me?” He stands up, motioning with a hand to Gabriel vaguely.

 

“I do mind, because I’m not doing this. It’s not happening.”

 

“Maybe we should try being friends before soulmates,” Jack offers, raising a brow at him.

 

It was a better idea than trying to immediately accept being soulmates, but he still wasn’t fond of this dudes attitude.

 

“Let’s start with roommates first and see if we don’t try to kill each other,” Gabriel counters, crossing his arms defensively. Roommates was less…  _ personable  _ than friends. Roommates didn’t have to talk or even give a shit about one another.

 

Gabriel’s wishing there was some way to get away from Jack- convenient training or meetings or some bullshit, but nothing comes. They’re left to their own devices for that first day, told to get to know each other or some bullshit. Personally, he wanted a nap. He steps back to the bed he claimed, lays down and shoots a glare at Jack. He’s sitting on the opposite bed, toying with the hem of his shirt.

 

“Ground rules. No masturbating in here,  _ especially _ if I’m sleeping, and I’ll pay you the same respect.”

 

Jack’s eyes shoot open wide. “I’m not a fucking voyeur, man! That’s not gonna be a problem.”

 

“Good. Second: if one of us is sleeping, the other is quiet.”

 

“Agreed. I need my beauty sleep after all.”

 

This guy was really itching to get punched, wasn’t he? It’s not worth it. Definitely not worth it. Gabriel just nods stiffly, rolling onto his side so his back was to Jack.   
  
“I’m going to pass out for a few hours, keep those rules in mind.”

 

⚜⚜

 

Gabriel’s out like a light, leaving Jack to the barren room and gentle snores of his soulmate-slash-roommate. The map showed a couple rec rooms, maybe there were others there trying to figure out what was going on here. He’d just have to remember to come back before dinner and wake Gabriel up if he was still asleep. It was just the nice thing to do.

 

With a nod to Gabriel’s sleeping form, he stands up from his bed, snatching his map and following it to the closest of the rec rooms. The only familiar face is Mobley, who still doesn’t look open to talking and is watching everyone from a chair in the corner. Creep. He joins the rest of the recruits hanging out on couches and chairs around a table, taking guesses at what kind of shit they’d be put through.

 

One guy, who Jack couldn’t remember the name of, says it’s something like those old Captain America movies, where they’re just going to inject some blue glowing shit into them and they’d just turn into super soldiers. The girl next to him punches his arm.

 

“Come on, Jose, if it was that easy we wouldn’t be scheduled for weeks of injections! It would be a one time thing, they’d do it today, and spend the rest of the time training us. Did you even see First Avenger?”

 

They all laugh at the expense of Jose, who’s floundering for some kind of defense and going red in the face, which just makes them laugh more.

 

There’s five of them, not including Jack or Mobley sulking in the corner. They go around, stating names that Jack almost immediately forgets. He’s jittery and on edge. Sitting around doing nothing wasn’t something he’d ever done well, and the pent up anxiety over being a government guinea pig didn’t help it at all. Honestly, what did they expect anyone to do today? The ominously labelled injection day was a day away and no one had the faintest clue what that meant for them. Would it be painful? Would it entirely knock them out? Could it kill them? No one had any answers for them. Guess that’s to be expected from something entirely new and untried, though.

 

Before he knows it, everyone’s leaving to get to the mess hall for dinner and he hadn’t gone back to make sure Gabriel woke up. He’d barely given Gabriel a gentle shake when the other man swung and punched him in the stomach. He’s hunched in on himself, sucking in air when Gabriel looks at him groggily.

 

“Wha- Oh. Sorry. Don’t wake well.”

 

“No shit,” Jack wheezes, still trying to remember what breathing was. Son of a bitch hit  _ hard _ . He finally catches his breath and straightens. Gabriel’s standing right in front of him, hand hovering as if to help.

 

“I didn’t, uh- I didn’t hurt you did I?”

 

Jack glares at him.

 

“A few hours ago you were getting pissy at the idea of spending any time around me and now you’re concerned that I might be hurt?”

 

“Yes, because it was an accident.” The concern is already gone, replaced with mild annoyance. “If I wanted to actually punch you, and believe me, I do, you would know and it would hurt a lot more.”

 

“Alright. Note to self: don’t pick fights with Gabriel.” It’s sarcastic.

 

“Damn straight.”

 

Honesty, Jack wasn’t sure how he felt about this guy. He was handsome, in a rugged rough-and-tumble sort of way, certainly not something he’d object to in a soulmate, but his attitude thus far was harsh. Sure, he wanted someone with character, but not someone that was a complete dick. Maybe it was just a front for strangers, or he’d change over time.

 

“Whatever. It’s time for dinner. Unless you want to keep sleeping?”

 

“Fuck no, I didn’t eat at lunch.”

 

Gabriel pushes out of the room, speed walking to the mess hall. Probably a sign he didn't want to walk with Jack.

 

Or he was really hungry.

 

Oh well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this update brought to you by me never having anything to do at work. big thank yous to bardo and christian for noticing all my stupid mistakes
> 
> come find me on tumblr @ hobbitwentz. i might give you sneak peaks if you message me


	3. Chapter 3

Everyone was antsy as fuck and Gabriel was on the verge of snapping at anyone and everyone. It was injection day and everyone and their mother was crawling out of their skin. They’d been so lovingly informed at breakfast that even though it was everyone’s third day on the base, there would be no delay and the injections were to begin today and continue every week until the end of the programme. Even the god damn doctors seemed nervous about today, which was never a good sign.

 

After breakfast, they were collectively escorted to a few large rooms lined with hospital beds. 25 per room and split off however they saw fit.

 

They were stripped to nothing but hospital gowns and underwear- a terrible time for those that chose to go commando that morning- pointed to a bed and told to wait. Some people paced around the bed, some sat on the edge, fiddling with whatever was within reach, and some resigned themselves to actually sitting still on the shitty hospital beds.

 

Gabriel had taken to pacing the short length of the bed, restless and chewing at his nails. He wouldn’t openly admit this, but he was a bit scared. It wasn’t that needles freaked him out, that wasn’t at all a problem, but not knowing what was going to happen did freak him out. The real panic didn’t set in until a doctor came in, telling everyone to lay on the beds as more nurses and doctors filed in. There were a lot of trays of various... things, each tray identical. At least that meant they were all getting the same treatment, right? 

 

They’re all given the bullshit line of ‘Relax, this won’t hurt a bit’ that means this is definitely going to hurt a fuckton. Fantastic.

 

The needle going in is a sharp stab, but nothing he can’t handle. Whatever they’re injecting is… Oddly warm, almost pleasant.

 

And then it starts to burn.

 

It’s like his veins are on fire, burning from the inside out and it’s spreading, spreading, going everywhere and  _ can’t they see he’s on fire?! _

 

There’s screaming- wait, is that him screaming? But there’s other screams besides his, that must mean  _ someone can see that he’s on fire and isn’t doing anything about it!!! _

 

It just keeps getting hotter and hotter and hotter and spreading to every inch of his body. He’s screamed himself hoarse and his throat raw, all there is now is a pathetic creaking sound. There’s a wetness on his cheeks- is he crying? When did he start crying? Ugh, that’s disgusting, crying is the worst- your face gets all puffy and eyes all red and nose all runny. Ugh.

 

The fire in his veins seems to reach a peak, and then finds another peak, and he knows he’s writhing in pain on the bed, crying out for some end to it, some mercy, something to stop this. He can’t do this, can’t handle this pain, it needs to stop, to go away,  _ please. _ It’s exhausting, and he’s drifting in and out of consciousness as it gets worse and worse. Never in his life had anything hurt this much, and he’d very much like for it to stop already. At least enough for him to pass out for longer than a few minutes.

 

Gabriel can’t tell if he’s getting used to the horrible, agonizing, burning pain, or if it’s dying down, but he’s fairly sure he died and that was what the fires of hell felt like. There was no other explanation for feeling like he was fucking burning alive like that. It was so horrible, like nothing he’d ever felt before.

 

There’s mostly sad whimpering and whining around him, but there’s still one person holding out screaming. Brave soul. Must have a hell of a strong throat to scream so much.

 

After what feels like an absolute eternity, the burning slowly dies down to just a tingly warm feeling, mostly in his fingers and toes. If he wiggles them, it feels a little funny. So he does it. A lot. Heh.

 

It’s an unpleasant feeling, though, after all the burning he just went through, but at least it’s not the horrid burning alive feeling anymore. He could go an entire lifetime without ever feeling that again, thank you very much.

 

He’s aware of someone trying to talk to him, but nothing is processing. He squeezes his eyes shut against the harsh lights.

 

“... Mr. Reyes?” A voice finally filters through. “Mr. Reyes, how would you rate the pain you felt?”

 

What the fuck kind of question is that. He was just  _ burning alive _ .

 

His tongue feels thick and cottony and his throat is raw so all he manages is a pained moan, which is met with an amused chuckle.

 

“We’re going to need actual words, Mr. Reyes.”

 

“Fuckin’ fiery pits of  _ hell. _ ” His voice is hoarse and wavering. There’s a small laugh to his left, presumably the nurse or doctor or whoever talking to him. Auditory placement: check. Visuals: no check, too bright, try again later.

 

“Thank you, Mr. Reyes. You are free to return to your room whenever you please to recuperate. Dinner is in an hour.”

 

_ Dinner. _ What time was it? How long had that hell lasted?

 

“Thank you for your cooperation.” It’s from the end of the room, likely some high up doctor in the bunch. ‘Cooperation.’ Sure, they’d all signed up for this, but none of them  _ knew _ that shit was coming. “If you experience a high fever, vomiting blood or severe chest pain, please find a nurse as soon as possible to let them know. Bloody noses, light sensitivity and skin sensitivity are normal side effects and should cause no concern.”   
  
Well, that all sounds fantastic.   
  
Gabriel tries to stand up, legs shaking, making him think better of that for now. Better to wait than fall on his face. So he sits on the edge of the bed- waiting for his legs to feel less like jelly and more like solid legs- before standing up slowly. His legs don’t immediately give out, dropping him to the floor, so that’s a good sign, but they’re still wobbly. Oh well, beggars can’t be choosers, can they?

 

He keeps to the walls as he tries to make his way to his room, stopping for breathers and to just sit on the floor and let his legs rest. He’s not the only one doing this, so it’s not as weird as it could be. By the time he actually makes it to the room- a feat that feels like it took hours to complete- he’s dead exhausted. It takes a moment to remember he closed the door to the shared room after they left that morning- Meaning Jack’s there, beat him back to the room, and Gabriel’s not sure he wants to deal with that mess. He nearly turns back, to hobble his way to one of the rec rooms he’d seen other people give up in, but he’s already made it this far, and the bed is just calling his name, even if it’s a shitty mattress. He stumbles straight for the bed, dropping down onto his stomach and turning his head to face out to the rest of the room.

 

There’s a person-  _ Jack _ \- on the floor, face down. Hard to tell if he’s breathing.

 

Shit.

 

Did that injection actually kill him? What’s the protocol here if your find your roommate dead on the floor?

 

“Uh- Morrison? You still breathing down there?”

 

There’s a pained moan from the floor. Still breathing it looks like. 

 

“You have to last at least a month, dude, so I can show you up.”

 

There’s another pained moan and a noncommittal hand wave.

 

And then it hits Gabriel.

 

He’s gonna fucking vomit.

 

⚜⚜

 

Gabriel doesn’t vomit, but the feeling comes and goes in waves for the rest of the night. He and Jack skip dinner, and, from the sounds of it, they aren’t the only ones that do.

 

For some god awful reason, they’re expected to be up bright and early in the morning for breakfast, with a stern warning that no one is allowed to skip it, despite everyone feeling incredibly sick.

 

Fantastic.

 

Jack’s still on the floor, so Gabriel pulls him up, leaning him against his shoulder with an arm around Jack’s waist. He’s still barely conscious- but alive at least- and Gabriel has to practically drag him out of the room. There’s loud complaints from all the rooms about having to be awake, having to exist, having to eat, and anything else people can think of.

 

Until someone screams.

 

Everyone freezes, turning toward the sound as a high ranking officer bolts down the hall to the room in question. He pops back out, yelling for a medic who comes running after him. Another moment and he’s yelling for everyone to get their asses to breakfast.

  
Chances are, someone died during the night, and Gabriel isn’t squeamish, but he'd rather not see a dead body this early in the morning, especially while toting around another man who might already be half dead himself. He drags him to the mess hall with a little effort.   
  
This’ll all be fine, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have no excuse for this taking a month haha. anyways thanks to bardo for beta'ing this!


	4. Chapter 4

In the entire time he’d been alive he’d never felt pain like this before. Not even the time a chicken almost bit his thumb off has he ever felt agony this excruciating. It felt like every nerve, every cell in his body was on fire. He was acutely aware of every part of his body, of the burning pain everywhere. He’d long since stopped screaming, throat hoarse and raw, any sound making the pain worse. The only reprieve was the tears streaming down his face, and he didn’t know how those didn’t immediately sizzle and evaporate from how much his skin was burning. He knows somewhere that someone is trying to talk to him, but he's so lost in the pain that he doesn't process it past ‘noise somewhere to the left’. Something about this all just feels so… Wrong. The burning feeling isn’t as bad as it had once been, had been at the beginning, but it’s not going away either. Is it supposed to last so long? Is he gonna be feeling like this forever? A human fireball, burning every goddamn moment of the day? Surely someone can see he’s burning from the inside out, they’ll have to make it stop eventually.

 

It slowly, agonizingly slowly, starts to die down. Eventually, he can focus on the soft voice to his right, still in a haze of burning pain, but not as terrible.

 

“... Morrison? Can you hear what I’m saying?”

 

A pained groan. His throat is still too raw to actually speak.

 

“Do you think you’ll be able to make it back to your room on your own?”

 

He tries to shake his head, but he's not sure if it actually happens.

 

“Alright, we’ll get someone to help you to your room.”

 

Why are they being so nice? Isn’t this a military programme?

 

Oh  _ fuck. _

 

They probably think he’s gonna die. That has to be it.

 

“He likely won’t last the night, check with his roommate in the morning.”

 

Oh no.

 

Oh no, no, no.

 

He can’t die this early in, he tries to protest it, tries to tell them  _ ‘No, I’m not gonna die here, I have to show up my roommate/soulmate I just met. I have too much to do before I die’ _ but it just comes out as a long whine.

 

“John said there were a few others who didn’t react well in the other groups, so he won’t be the only one.”

 

He’s lifted off the bed, arm slung over someone’s shoulder. His eyes  _ finally _ cooperate and open, squinting against the harsh lights.

 

There’s a male nurse and a female doctor, presumably the two that had been discussing his imminent death. She smiles that fake ‘ _ Everything’s going to be okay _ ’ smile that absolutely means nothing’s okay.

 

“Mr. Morrison, Andy here is going to help you back to your room, and we’ll stop by in the morning to see how you’re feeling then.”

 

He makes a noise of protest, but there’s not much he can do before he’s half dragged back to his room. The nurse is eerily quiet the entire time. He sits Jack at one of the desks and ducks out quickly. Not to keen on being around a dying man, it seems. Some nurse.

 

The desk chairs are decidedly too uncomfortable and he tries to move to his bed- A valiant effort is made for all of two steps before everything is just  _ too damn much  _ and he collapses face first on the ground. Fine. This is totally fine. He can roll with this.

 

It’s only a few minutes of laying there before someone-  _ Gabriel _ \- comes into the room. Fucker was able to walk back all on his own. What an asshole. He’s probably laying on the bed too, ugh. Asshole.

 

“Uh- Morrison? You still breathing?”

 

He tries to say something but all that comes out is a pained noise. Well, at least it conveys that he’s still breathing.

 

“You have to last at least a month, dude, so I can show you up.”

 

He embraces that all he can do is let out a pathetic little noise and waves his hand in the general direction of Gabriel. He’ll argue it when he’s not in pain and can actually think and talk.

 

There’s a weird  _ hurk _ kind of sound from Gabriel before Jack embraces unconsciousness. Whatever that was, he can deal with it himself. This is the first time the fucking burning has been low enough he could actually drop off to sleep and like hell he’s going to give that up for his asshole soulmate.

 

⚜⚜

 

Morning comes, he’s not dead, and they’re told that no one gets to skip breakfast unless they’re dead. Must mean a lot of people skipped dinner last night. Or they were just shitty people that enjoyed watching other people suffer. Both were believable.

 

Jack’s still laying on the floor, having slept through the entire night there, or, if he had been conscious at any point, not willing to try and move.

 

Someone-  _ Gabriel- _ pulls him up from the floor. He’s leaning heavily on the other man, mostly being dragged along. No complaints, though. Not like he’s really up for trying to walk yet. Maybe death would still come for him.

 

There’s a scream in the hallway, not too long after they get out of the room, and voices muttering about someone being dead- But it’s not Jack, yet, that’s what matters.

 

He lets Gabriel drag him off to breakfast- a small part laughing at his  _ soulmate _ having to practically carry him around, despite Gabriel’s extreme protests against the whole soulmate thing. It’s… Almost nice. Almost.

 

That is, until he’s unceremoniously dropped at a table with Gabriel muttering something about getting food before nearly running off. Jack lets his head drop onto the table. Still not quite on board with this existing as a human being thing yet.

 

He’s alive, but still feels like death warmed over, so it’ll be touch and go for a bit. Maybe they’ll get lucky and not be expected to do any super intense training today. Maybe. Hopefully.

 

Gabriel returns with two trays of food, shoving one at Jack.

 

“You look fucking miserable, man. You should try to eat.”

 

Jack looks from him, to the plate of mush in front of him, and back to Gabriel. Not happening, not today.

 

“I’m good, thanks.”

 

The other man’s eyebrows shoot up and he smirks. What an ass.

 

“How are you supposed to try and be better than me if you pass out because you’re too good for military mush?”

 

Well.

 

_ That _ was aggravating.

 

He picks up the shitty plastic spork and shovels the disgusting mush into his mouth. It’s… Horrible. It barely takes like food and the texture makes him want to gag. Gabriel’s laughing at him and  _ shit _ he has a cute laugh. It’s somewhere between a giggle and an actual laugh and it’s cute. Some people would say it’s wrong to call a 6’1 muscular dude cute, but some people can shut the fuck up. Jack’s cheeks tinge pink and he slows down, finishing the mush.

 

“That was definitely a sight, dude, what the hell, but I’d bet you feel a bit better now.”

 

“I feel less like I’m about to drop dead on the spot, and more like I’m gonna vomit right here on this table.”

 

Gabriel eyes him warily, pulling his own tray of mush back.

 

“Please don’t puke on my shitty mush food.”

 

“I’ll try not to.” He maybe sounds a bit bitter. Maybe.

 

Okay, he’s definitely bitter that Gabriel seems more worried about the shitty food than the actual person across from him.

 

They don’t get to banter much more before there’s a loud booming voice ringing across the mess hall.

 

“Recruits! Congrats on taking the first step to becoming the saviours of humanity! Too bad there’s a couple hundred more steps before you’re able to do any actual world saving. I know you all probably feel like absolute shit right now, but training will continue as scheduled-”

 

There’s a chorus of groans and even one person shouting objections about it being the weekend.

 

“Do you think the omnics take weekends off? We have to get as many of you as we can combat ready as fast as we can. You’ll get days off throughout the programme, don’t worry, but we also have a lot of hard work to do before we can even consider that. We need you all to do more than your best and we hope the ranking boards will push you do work your asses off. Don’t get lazy and think you’re fine because you keep a decent rank. You should all strive to be number one and work your asses off to get and keep that rank.”

 

There’s half hearted groans of understanding from around the mess hall. Gabriel looks like there’s a new fire lit in his eyes when Jack turns to look at him.  _ Cute. _

 

“I’m gonna show all these fuckers up.”

 

“Not if I show them all up first,” Jack says teasingly. Gabriel shuts him up with a halfhearted glare.

 

“Considering I had to carry you here this morning, I highly doubt that.”

 

Before they can keep bickering, their attention is drawn back to the speaker.

 

“Today’s training is going to focus on close quarters combat. Your partner is your roommate.” No one wants to ask it but… What about the person whose roommate died? What’re they supposed to do?

 

Jack turns to give Gabriel a fierce look, trying not to think about it, and Gabriel returns it with the same look, seemingly having the same thought process.

 

“I’m gonna fucking decimate you, Morrison. I hope you’re ready to get your ass beat.”

 

“Those are fightin’ words, Reyes. I hope you don’t cry too hard when I sweep the floor with your ass.” 

 

⚜⚜

 

He throws up during training. Thankfully, not on Gabriel, but it’s still embarrassing as hell. Gabriel lands a solid punch to his gut- and  _ damn _ the guy can punch- and the first thought that crosses Jack’s mind is he is absolutely going to vomit. He stumbles back from Gabriel, hunching over with his hands on his knees. Gabriel get the hint of ‘don’t punch again’ and backs off.

 

“Shit, you okay man?”

 

He shakes his head, gasping in a breath. The punch didn’t hurt as much as the injections, but it definitely hurt and holy  _ shit _ did he feel like he was going to puke. Gabriel looks ready to come over when he finally does puke on the mat.

 

“Aw, fuck, that’s disgusting man. Are you serious okay, should I find a doctor or something?”

 

“I’m fine, they’ll just think I’m dying or something. I heard ‘em- After the injections. Said I wouldn’t make it to morning.”

 

There’s a hand on his shoulder now and he peeks up to see Gabriel off to his side, circled around to get to him.

 

“Hey, what kind of soulmate would you be if you died when we’ve only just met? I’m not about to be some shitty sob story, I’m gonna show your ass up at every step of this super soldier gig, and then we’re gonna go save the world from an omnic uprising, you hear me? No dying on me.”

 

Jack laughs at that. It doesn’t help the lingering nausea, but it makes him  _ laugh, _ which is a good thing. 

 

Training continues in much the same way- Gabriel effectively kicking Jack’s ass at every turn after the sparring mat gets swapped out, and making jokes about it.

 

It’s… Nice. He seems a lot less reluctant about the soulmate thing, even almost leaning towards okay with it now. Small steps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's safe to say i have no clue where i'm going with this. as always, huge shout out to bardo for beta'ing this.

**Author's Note:**

> come find me on tumblr @ hobbitwentz !


End file.
